Page 106 of Undone

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mistakes and Mayhem

“TURN HERE.”

“Do you have a name besides, Pledge?”

“Trent.”

“Good to know.”

Dev turns down a bumpy road. Her knuckles turn white on the wheel as the truck starts to slide horizontally in the other lane. The deep snow is so compacted the top layers are all ice. There’s no houses, streetlights or signs of life making it almost impossible to see through the pitch blackness.

“I have a bad feeling…”

“We’re almost there,” Trent cuts me off.

“You better not be fucking with us,” Shanna warns.

“It’s just ahead. Slow to a crawl, or you’ll miss the turn.”

The truck inches forward. Holy shit, there it is. Under heavy hanging evergreen branches weighed down by thick snow is a driveway. Tire tracks make an icy crevice for us to follow. The branches scrape the sides of the truck as Dev turns down the lane. It goes for about a mile through thick brush. The truck slips a few times, but it’s heavy and the added traction Duke put on keeps us going forward. The trees start to thin out as a small A-frame cabin comes into view. Lights shine through windows. Smoke curls from the chimney.

“Sweet Jesus, I need to pee.” Shanna moans.

“Pull into the shed.”

“What is this place?”

“A safehouse. We use it on our runs north.”

“Well, hell. We can’t stop here. Someone from Creed is obviously home.”

“We’re fucked,” Dev croaks, as a large fist pounds on the hood.

“Hello darlin’.”

Dev squeaks. It’s friggin’ Rog.

“Open the door Shanna,” Duke uses his knuckles to tap on her window.

“Shit!” We all shriek, noticing the fob key in his hand with his finger hovering on the unlock button.

“What-the-hell?” How did they get here? How did they know?”

I jump as the truck unlocks and my door is yanked open. A sasquatch grabs me, hauling me out into the cold. “Gotcha.”

I shriek as I tumble out into his arms.

I’ve wanted this moment.

But I wanted to have the upper hand. I’m powerless in his firm grip. Our eyes travel over one another, not quite believing we’re face to face—that our bodies touch. He’s more ruggedly wild than he ever was. His beard is thick and long, his dark hair is longer than mine, too. But his eyes are the same—burning hot as they gaze down at me.

“Thanks for snapping the pic of Trent with the highway marker in the background. Technology is amazing. So are my contacts. It didn’t take long to figure where you were heading and if Trent had any balls left—he’d know to get you here.”

“I-I thought you were in Seattle?”

“We were. Smith picked us up in a Learjet.”

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